


Hate Me, Love Me,

by Marrilyn



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: And I Lose my Dress, Avenger Loki, Even His Breathing Is Sexy, F/M, Hair-pulling, Half-Graphic Depictions Of Sex, I Blame Loki, I REGRET NOTHING, I Wanna Do Bad Things With You, I can't help it, I'm A Fangirl, It Should Be Illegal To Be So Sexy, LET ME LOVE YOU, Let Me Hold You, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Gets More Than A Hug, Loki Gets a Hug, Loki Loses The Suit, Loki Wears A Suit, Loki gets what he wants, Loki sex, Loki's Voice, Loki's sexy voice, Loki-centric, Non-Graphic Smut, Of Course Everything Is Sexy, POV First Person, Past Tense, Read It Anyway For Wish Fulfillment, Seduction, Sex, Sex with Loki, Sexy Everything, Sexy Loki, Sexy Voice, Shameless Wish Fulfillment, That's why I wrote it, Warning: Loki, Willing Reader, Wish Fulfillment, and tom hiddleston, badly written sex scene, it's Loki, oh yeah, seductive loki, sue me, the best kind of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: "Tell me you don't want this and I'll leave."I never did. I never could.I could pretend to hate him all I wanted. The truth was, I wanted him. Craved him. Desired him.And now I could finally have him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: a badly written sex scene. What can I say? A girl can dream. I learned from Laurell K. Hamilton. :P
> 
> This is the English translated, slightly different (in terms of some descriptions) version of my Croatian-language Volim te, mrzim te. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8380879

I was seated at the bar, glumly observing the crowd dancing around the fluorescently-lit room, lead by a musical rhythm that I would have enjoyed had this been any other time. Now, I found it to be my number one worst enemy. When Tony had asked me to come to his party, he'd promised me a good time and liters of expensive, overpriced alcohol. An unlimited amount. For free.

"It'll be a small party," he'd said.

If he considered a hundred drunken and half-drunken people small, I didn't even want to know what his dictionary defined as a big party. Knowing him, I could make a pretty good guess. Before I'd agreed to anything, I should have asked for details. Tony couldn't be trusted when it came to parties and alcohol.

Alcohol was the sole reason I'd decided to stay. I didn't like crowds, especially drunken crowds, but you know what they say – don't look a gift liquor in the mouth.

The Avengers stood in the corner, all holding glasses of something strong – Tony would never have allowed anything less – and smiling at something that Tony had been talking about. I didn't have to physically be there to know what my rich, egoistical friend had been mumbling about. As years went on and our friendship deepened, I'd gotten used to his sexual anecdotes and learned to recognize them from miles away. I just hoped Pepper wouldn't hear. It don't think she's be fond of Tony's detailed descriptions of their latest intimate meeting.

Thor was red in the face, downing a large glass of something I had valid reasons to believe to have been from Asgard. He'd loved human drinks, but thanks to his godly nature, they hadn't had the desired effect, so he'd taken to bringing Asgardian mead to every gathering. If he was going to get drunk, he was going to get drunk like a man.

I tried that shit one time and had almost fainted. For a whole week I'd walked around SHIELD with a huge bump on my forehead, to the great amusement of my colleagues. If nothing else, at least I'd made someone's day. You don't get to amuse people every day by slamming your head in the corner of a table after one sip – one fucking sip – of alcohol from a Norse deities' realm.

Natasha and Bruce were mumbling something amongst themselves, not paying attention to Tony's ramblings. Clint was doubling down in laughter, every now and then taking a yellow-drink sip from his crystal glass. The only one amongst them that had been sober was Steve, and it was obvious that he, at least for tonight, hated his enhanced regeneration. Not even Thor's mead had an effect on him, and that was saying something about the supersoldier's – mostly useful, but this time irritating – ability.

I was enjoying my chocolate liquor, rolling my eyes at my colleagues, when all of a sudden the appearance of _him_ graced my presence. He sat down next to me, lazily falling onto the chair as though the mere gesture was beneath him. He grabbed one of the shot glasses laid neatly on the tray and took a long swing, downing the amber-colored liquor like it was water. Without taking a breath, he grabbed another glass, then another, downing each in mere seconds.

I stared at him, my expression a mixture of impression and disgust. My eyes flew up and down his body, observing him like a priceless exhibit in one of those expensive, fancy museums. Which he, at least according to me, had been.

He was tall and thin, his skin as white as porcelain. His lips were thin, curled into a devilish smile that did things to me that it really should not have been doing, thinks I didn't want it to do. His hair, silky, long, as black as midnight, had, as usual, been slicked back. So many times I'd wished to run my fingers through those dark locks, dishevel them, feel their softness against my skin. So many times I'd wished to pull at that perfect blackness, elicit a scream of pleasure mixed with pain from those lips whose mere existence tempted me.

His eyes were as blue as an aquamarine, two icy jewels whose intense glance could swallow me whole, drown me as though I was nothing. They reminded me of endless arctic winters, of wild, cruel nature or ruthless, killing ice. Sometimes I wished to get lost in that blue, to give myself up to his mercy, surrender the tiny bit of control I'd had left in his imposing presence.

He worse a suit, black, skintight, perfect. It hugged his body as though it was made for him, made to adore him the way that I, looking at him in that marvelous edition, wanted to adore him. I'd never admit it out loud, though. I'm a woman; I have certain needs and urges, but I also have pride that could counter Tony's ego, and it, my very own guardian angel, would never allow me to say or do anything that would put my dignity at risk.

Never before had a man had that effect on me. It could have been the fact that he wasn't just a man – he was a god, immortal, dangerous, and his mere presence promised evil that, at times, sickened me, yet, at other times, I wished to embrace it, let myself go to it the way that he had been doing it, no regrets, no second guessing.

If I didn't find him so annoying, I might have admitted that I'd been attracted to him. This way I could only observe him from the shadows, from a safe distance, in the private safety of my mind. He could have been as beautiful as he wanted to, but that didn't change the fact that he was a jerk with a dangerous superiority complex. A superiority complex that I'd found rather sexy, but still, even I had some standards. And pride. An enormous amount of pride.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, his cold voice a melody to my ears. He spoke in an accent that could, by Earthly standards, best be described as British, but there was something exotic, otherworldly in that speech. One word of his had been enough for my knees to begin to tremble, and I was glad I'd been sitting down.

I think he knew; knew what his voice had been doing to me, knew how that smirk affected me, knew I couldn't say no to that look no matter how hard I tried to resist the urges that awoke deep within my body. He knew it, and he'd been doing it on purpose. He wasn't called the god of mischief and lies for no reason. That kind of title is to be deserved, and he'd worn his with pride.

Redness tinted my cheeks. I glanced away, sheepishly lowering my head, suddenly finding my liquor glass incredibly interesting. "What do you want, Loki?"

"Can't I sit down and fancy myself a drink?"

"I know you," I said. Two years had been enough for me to form an opinion on him. Loki was a complex person, but I read him like a book. Once I'd gotten used to his tricks, leaned to recognize them with a single glance, it had become easy to see through him. "You always have an ulterior motive."

He dramatically clasped his hand over his heart, an award-worthy performance. "You're hurting my feelings."

I had to laugh out loud. "You have feelings?"

"There she goes again." Still, his thin lips widened into a pretty smile. "So vitriolic."

"Does it get tiring, being such a jerk?"

"No," he replied nonchalantly, downing another glass. "Does it get tiring, pretending to hate me?"

"I _do_ hate you," I said, hoping I sounded convincing enough.

And failed. Big time.

You know what they say – hope is a bitch.

Loki suggestively raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

 _Don't look into his eyes,_ I told myself. _Look straight. Right ahead. At your glass. Anywhere but his eyes._

Too late. My gaze flickered, meeting his for just a moment, and that had been enough for all my remaining self-control to dissipate like dust blown away by a sudden gust of wind.

"You see, I think you're lying," he said. "And I'd know something about that." He pointed at himself, smirking like a naughty child. "God of lies, my dear. I've seen the way you look at me. As if you're holding back. You want something, but your pride won't allow you to ask for it."

I gulped down my drink, hoping to hide that betraying quiver that took hold of my lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

He leaned over to me, leaned so close that I could feel his fresh, icy breath on my neck, as cool as a light dash of wind dancing atop my skin. His lips were so close to mine that they'd almost touched. A millimeter parted them; a goddamn millimeter that I both hated more than anything, and appreciated the small sign of privacy it presented.

His hand reached for my cheek, cupping it incredibly gently for someone as rough as him. His fingers danced over my skin, their natural coldness a perfect contrast to my heat. A shivering, tingling sensation shot through my body in a mere second, shaking me like a sudden bolt of electricity. I relaxed under his touch, giving myself into the surge of pleasure that had overcome me.

"Tell me you don't want this and I'll leave," Loki said silently, slowly, his voice a seductive purr.

I glanced down at his swollen lips, two soft, icy pillows begging for kisses. Without a single word, not giving myself time to think about how smart this was for thinking would only complicate things further, I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him over to me. Our lips crashed in a wild kiss; a gentle prey surrendering to raw passion that burst like a scalding hot geyser after years of suppressed tensions.

I couldn't pretend anymore. I could be myself, enjoy this feeling for just this one night. I could enjoy him the way he enjoyed me.

"I'll take this as an invitation to stay," Loki said through kisses.

"Shut up," I said curtly, wrapping my arms around his neck and moving closer to that dark, pale iceberg that had been his body. Throughout the annoying beats of the blasting music I managed to make out slow, silent beats of his heart, a perfect opposite to the fastened pace of my own.

Nothing would ever be the same after tonight. I couldn't pretend to hate him anymore. I wouldn't be able to ignore him, nor snark back snidely at his sarcastic comments. I wouldn't be able to tell him what a bastard he was to his face and pretend that I truly meant it.

And, strangely, I was glad. After years of pretending, I could finally be myself; I could finally give into what I'd longed for for so long. My very own forbidden fruit, and it had let me taste it under my conditions, my own rules. As much control as I'd lost, he'd given me his own, allowed me to lead the best way I knew how.

"What do you say we continue this somewhere a bit more private?" Loki suggested.

Slowly rising to my feet, I grabbed him by the tie and pulled him after me. He pulled on a joyful, playful grin, the same one he always wore while planning one of his tricks. We pushed into the first room that graced us with its presence, slamming the door behind us with enough force to shake the walls. For the first time this evening I was glad for the loud music. Tony would have a massive freak out had he heard.

Loki's lips were back on mine in a second, hungry and devoted, craving me and my body, craving passion that radiated from me like rays of glittering Sun.

Moonlight shone through the bare window. Thin snowflakes fell in tender paces, leaving wet, icy trails atop the glass they'd land on. From the corner of my eye I noticed the sky, crystal clear, smiling at us as thousands of tiny flakes descended from their cloudy prison, on their way to the Earth's surface. No scenery could have been more romantic.

Loki was about to rip my dress off when I grabbed him by the hand, stopping him in place. I pushed him against the nearest wall, my fingers reaching for his neck, nails lightly scraping against his skin.

"No roughness," I warned.

He pouted like a petulant child. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Use your magic," I whispered, smiling before letting my lips fall onto his once again.

He snapped his fingers and our clothes vanished in a split second. We stood before one another, naked like the day we were born. His body was perfect, pale and beautiful, resembling a priceless antic statue chiseled by the angels themselves. He was big, bigger than I'd imagined, and I barely suppressed a giggle, trapping it in my throat alongside a never released sigh. There was no better romance killer than laughter, especially at a time like this.

He was ready as much as I was, his length cold against my bare thigh. I pushed him onto the bed, a tiny bit rougher than I should have, and he smirked, pulling me along, his hands firmly holding me against him. I laid atop him, my weigh holding him down, crushing him against the soft, silk-covered bed.

His kisses devoured me, a tornado of pleasure I never wanted to get away from. The ice of his lips melted on mine, sliding down my neck, all the way down to my firm, waiting breasts. His mouth caught a nipple, and he suckled, swiftly, suddenly, and I screamed in pleasure, screamed his name loud enough to be heard miles away, begging for more and cursing him out at the same time. The blessing and the curse stirred within me, daring me, taunting me amidst a perfect storm of emotions that had just a few hours before been merely a wild fantasy.

My fingers felt for his hair, sliding through the soft, gentle silk. I grabbed a strand and pulled, throwing his head back, separating him from my writhing body. He tried to resist, but my hold on him tightened, my other hand reaching for his neck, pinning him to the bed.

"I thought you said no roughness."

"I don't want _you_ to be rough," I said.

"Ooh," he purred in that irresistible voice of his. "Naughty girl."

I pulled at his hair once again, eliciting a pained hiss.

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do," he said.

"Want me to show you?"

"Are you honestly asking me that?"

I grinned. "I don't know what you want."

"I think you know more than you're willing to admit."

"Or…" I pressed a finger to his lips. "… I want to surprise you."

"I don't like surprises," he said.

"I think you do," I told him. "Don't lie to me."

"It's in my nature."

Suddenly, he pulled himself up, pushing me to the side. In a brisk moment, with swift elegance only someone like him could possess, he climbed atop me, his hands firmly placed over my wrists, holding them in stern place. His eyes locked with mine, hungry, full of desire equal to the one that stormed within me; desire that screamed and begged for release.

"Perhaps I _do_ like surprises," he said, smirking in a way that made my body go numb with desire.

I wasn't proud of this, but I liked his dark side. Goodness was boring, usual, so fucking vanilla it hurt. Loki was, on the other hand, irredeemably bad and he enjoyed it. He was proud of his darkness, embraced it instead of pushing it away. That had been one of the first things that attracted me to him – his ability to be bad, and his willingness to enjoy it.

It doesn't happen often that people accept themselves for who they really are. Loki was a magnificent exception.

I wrapped my legs around him, crossing them over his back to draw him closer. I felt him on my thigh, long and firm; I felt his passion, his desire for me, for my body; I felt the impatience that radiated from him akin to the moonlight shining through the window. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, craved me like a rabid beast, a predator in a beautiful, humanoid form.

"Show me," I whispered though fastened breaths. My fragile voice shook, on the very verge of breaking, weak under his powerful influence.

"With pleasure," he said, his lips curling into that signature troubling smirk of his. Then he moaned, letting out a sound that seemed more humanoid than godly, a mixture of painful longing and loud, very loud craving.

He swiftly pushed into me, roughly, violently slamming into my body that desired him like an addict longing for a fix. I screamed out in pleasure mixed with pain, calling his name in a loud, raw groan that escaped my throat. My weak body trembled and I whimpered, relinquishing all my remaining control, giving myself completely over to his mercy.

"You're tight," he whispered, pulling out for a short, meaningless moment before slamming in once again, strongly, urgently.

"Don't you think I know that?" I breathed.

He pushed into me once more, shaking me out of my thoughts. Instinctively, I freed my hands from his grasp and brought them to the firmness of his back. My long, sharp nails dug into his ice-interwoven skin, and he growled like a wild beast, his fastened breaths matching the rhythm of his heartbeats. A small stream of hot, red liquid spilled down my fingers, a complete contrast to his stone-cold being. The metallic scent danced throughout the air, burning at my nostrils, a sensation both unwanted and desired.

He stared at me, wildly, beastly, like a predator observing its prey, and then our lips met in a kiss that made my entire world spin. I buried my nails deeper; he tensed underneath my destructive touch, deepening the kiss, and I pressed him even firmer against me.

My fingers found their way to his hair; his silky, now disheveled hair that framed his beautiful face in cascades of messy locks. I grabbed a hold of it, holding onto it roughly, giving myself up to the familiar pleasure, letting him lead, letting him play this dangerous, seductive game by his own rule, exactly the way I'd wished him to.

And for a moment; for a long, breathless moment the gloomy past of mutual hatred morphed into pleasant present, and if felt as though everything, the entire world, all the nine realms, had taken on new, never before seen colors.

* * *

It was early morning, mere moments after sunrise, when I opened my eyes. Loki's arms were wrapped around me in a loose hug. My head rested on his chest; I listened in on soft, calming beats of his heart, a melody as sweet as the most beautiful of lullabies.

"Hey," I said gently, a tone I'd never dreamed I'd speak to him with.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, dropping a hand so his fingers could entwine with mine. "Morning. Sleep well?"

I giggled like a lovestruck schoolgirl. "You know I didn't."

I couldn't see his face, but I would have bet on everything I owned that his smirk greatly surpassed my own. "Good."

"Jerkass," I teased.

"You know you adore me."

"Yeah," I said sarcastically. "Can't wait to fall to my knees."

"I'd like that," he said, as though he was seriously considering that option.

"I know you would."

"Would you–"

"No," I cut him off curtly. "No way."

He leaned over me, shooting me the cutest puppy eyes. "Please?"

I scoffed, smiling. That could have worked on his parents – well, his mother. His old man was an asshole – and Thor, but I would never fall for cute eyes. Although, I had to admit, his were extra cute. Everything of his was cute.

I smirked to myself as perfectly detailed memories of the night before flashed through my mind. _Everything,_ I concluded. _Absolutely everything. Cute perfection._

"If anyone's going to kneel, it'll be you," I said.

"You're not fair," he pouted.

"Life isn't fair, sweetheart."

"Didn't you have enough fun tonight?"

"Are you telling me _you didn't_ have fun?" I asked, my expression morphing into that of over the top melodrama.

He smiled sweetly. "I think we both know the answer to that question."

"Do we?" I teased. "You complain an awful lot for someone who had a good time."

"I'm not complaining," he said. "I'm just… suggesting."

"I won't kneel before you," I said decisively. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, there were things I wasn't able nor wanted to indulge him in. If he wanted me, he would play by my rules. After all, it was time someone grounded him. He'd spent way too long with his head high in the clouds.

"I can turn around, if you want. It doesn't have to be _before_ me."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't resist a small smile. "Keep that up and you won't get a reprise."

"Oh, so you want more?" All his attempts to sound surprised failed. Though, maybe that had been his intention all along. I could never be sure when it came to him. "I knew you can't resist me."

"Who says I can't?" I shrugged. "Maybe I just don't want to."

"You aren't resisting me," he said smugly. "Formalities bear no importance."

"I thought formalities were everything for you noble people," I said.

He scoffed. "It's overrated."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "Formalities?"

"Nobility," he explained. "But formalities, as well."

I had to agree with that rhetoric.

A few moments went by in pleasant, peaceful quiet, until Loki, grinning from ear to ear like a mischievous teenager, said: "I assume you don't hate me anymore."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I inquired.

"Oh, was tonight some sort of revenge, then?"

"They say revenge sex is the best kind of sex," I pointed out.

"I'm not disputing it," he agreed.

"Experience?"

"Well, of course."

I had no doubts about that.

I laughed, before saying: "I don't really hate you."

"I'm shocked," he said dramatically.

"Don't be a jerk," I told him.

"That's impossible," he said.

"Try." I sighed. "What I meant to say is – maybe you aren't exactly the bastard I thought you were."

He shot me a baffled look. "Was that a compliment?"

"It should have been."

"I guess you were headed in the right direction."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "I might have held a bit of a… _grudge_ for the whole New York thing." Maybe. Just a tiny, little bit. "And I might have jumped to a – wrong – conclusion about you. I mean, you're still an asshole, but I don't think you're a mega asshole anymore."

"It's progress," he noted.

"It is," I agreed. "I'm ready to give you a chance. If you want it."

His eyebrows shot up suggestively. "Are you courting me?"

"No one says _courting_ anymore," I said in complete and utter shock. What was this? The seventeenth century? Asgard urgently needed to install the newest upgrades. "But yes. I'm asking you out."

"And if I am to say no?"

"Then we'll pretend none of this ever happened and keep on hating each other."

I hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. He still wasn't my favorite person in the world, but I did like him. I liked his character, his sarcasm, the way he spoke certain words. I liked that naughty gleam in his eyes, the one that glittered whenever he'd think up something bad. I liked the way he walked, so careless, nonchalant, yet elegant, as though he expected the entire world to bow down to him.

I liked _him._

And I wanted him.

I just hoped he wanted me as much.

"Such a turn of events is rather unnecessary," he said. "A bit over the top, don't you think?" Before I could find words to offer an answer, he continued: "I accept your proposition. I would like to… go out with you."

"Really?"

I couldn't believe my ears. Was that all just a dream? Would I wake up alone in a strange bed, thrown away like an old rag? Would the entire SHIELD laugh at me for allowing myself to trust a war criminal – a reformed war criminal, I reminded myself – and giving myself over to him?

"Why do you sound so surprised?" He leaned over me once again, that delicious voice of his whispering into my ear: "Did you really think I would say no?"

"Honestly, I had my doubts," I said, quivering, letting out a sigh of relief. His voice had been a dangerous weapon, one of my few deadly weaknesses. I wondered if he knew how his presence affected me, how his voice, his sweet, tasty voice, was on the verge of driving me to madness? "I can never quite tell what you'll do."

"I'm giving you a chance to find out."

Curving my lips into a smile, I pushed myself up to my elbows to give him a soft kiss. Suddenly, the door swung open, followed by a loud, ear-piercing scream. I twitched, and Loki's grip on me tightened, an instinctive gesture of protection.

"What the fuck is this?"

Furious brown eyes glares at us; eyes that held a perfect, raging storm within them, gleaming with threats of murder.

Tony's body tensed, as though he was pondering on the best way to commit two murders without leaving a single shred of evidence.

Shit.

"Seriously? On my bed?" Tony said, utterly terrified. "Out of all the rooms in this mansion, you just had to choose mine?"

I shrugged, pushing back the fear that rose in my chest. "Yours was closest."

"Closest…" Tony sighed, his face red with anger. His head resembled a bomb on the verge of explosion. One wrong word, one single little mistake, and everything would go _boom._ "How? Why? How?"

"You _are_ familiar with the act of intercourse, are you not?" Loki helpfully explained.

"Not another word!" Tony growled menacingly. "And you!" He pointed at me. "What the hell? You said you'd rather cut your arm off than hang around him."

Loki shot me a glance.

"That was a dark period of my life," I said.

"That was yesterday," Tony pointed out.

Oops.

"Things changed."

"I can see that."

"Are you really judging me? You, Tony Stark, a womanizer like no other, are judging me?"

"I wear that title with pride," Tony said. "And I'm not judging you. I'm just questioning your life decisions."

"You're judging me," I said. "That's mean, Tony Stark. Very mean." I gave Loki the very same puppy eyes he had only moments ago given me. "He's being mean to me."

"Don't be mean to her," Loki said.

Tony rolled his eyes, letting out a defeated sigh. There was no use arguing with me; not now that I had a god of mischief by my side. The god that could turn Tony's life into a living hell very easily.

Despite what the tabloids and Clint said, Tony Stark wasn't stupid. His love for himself had been almost as great as his ego.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "You have five minutes to get the fuck out of my room."

With that he turned on his heel and slammed the door shut.

Loki and I shared a glance before bursting into a fit of laughter. _Yeah,_ I said to myself. _We'll make a great team._ There was no doubt about that.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: A prompt from Prompt Generator. http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator


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